In Two Week's Time
by Shipshipship
Summary: Sherlock is sent to camp for two weeks by Mycroft and isn't happy about it until he meets a boy his age John, a counselor at the camp.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone c: Brand new fanfic wooooo. Credit to** Gracie_x** for the prompt and for being a lovely beta (psst, check out her stories)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock franchise or any characters

"Mycroft, do I really have to stay here for the next three weeks?" Sherlock groaned.

"It's nice here. You'll get some fresh air. And you know that mum and dad are having issues, and I don't have time to watch over you." Mycroft sighed. "Just behave please. If I get a call saying that you blew something up, I'll send you to boarding school."

"Whatever." Sherlock looked around at the camp, wondering what exactly it could offer him. "I'm the oldest person here." It was true. As he looked around, he realized that most of the campers appeared to be 8-13, which put him at least three years ahead of everyone here.

"No, you aren't. The counselors have to be 18 to work here." Mycroft grinned. "Please just make the best of it, Sherlock. It's only two weeks."

Sherlock chose not to reply. Mycroft sighed again.

"Let's check you in then." Sherlock reluctantly followed his brother, wondering how he could get sent home early.

)

"Bye guys! I'll see you in a couple weeks!" John grinned, excited to be back at camp. This year was going to be especially fun, because he got to be a counselor instead of a camper.

"Bye John! Be safe." His mum yelled.

John rolled his eyes but nodded.

They drove off, leaving John to take in the familiar surroundings. He had been coming to camp for as long as he could remember and he always had to be dragged away at the end of the two weeks. John walked towards the mess hall, where he was checked in, exchanging hellos with people he recognized.

"Hey Michael, I'm here. Which cabin is mine?" Every counselor was assigned a cabin, and that counselor had the kids in that cabin.

"Um, it says here that you're in 7. Go ahead and put your stuff in there, and introduce yourself to the campers." Michael was the head counselor. He'd been coming to the camp for twelve years, 5 as a counselor. He pretty much knew the entire camp back to front.

"Great. Thanks!" John located his cabin, threw his stuff onto the bed marked with his name, and went off to find his campers. All campers were given a wristband with a certain color that correlated with their cabin number. Cabin 7 was green. He quickly located his kids, and played a short introduction game, before taking them back to the cabin to unload their stuff.

"How many of you have been here before?" John asked. Five of the kids raised their hands. "Alright, will you guys lead the other campers to the mess hall and take them to our table? It will have a green sign in front of it."

While his kids were getting seated, he went off in search of Michael so he could get his activities folder. He had just spotted him when he suddenly collided with someone, knocking them both over.

"Oh, sorry! I should have been watching where I was going." John scrambled to his feet. "Let me help you." John extended a hand to the dark haired boy currently on the ground.

Sherlock took it, and John pulled him up.

"Sorry about that." John realized that the boy in front of him was around his age, far too old to be a regular camper. It was after a couple seconds that he realized he was staring, and not saying a word.

"I'll, uh, see you around, alright?" John stammered, feeling silly. Sherlock nodded, and went to find his table.

Michael appeared behind John, laughing. "First day, and already you're getting hurt." John was known for his clumsiness at camp.

"Shove off. Who is that kid?" John asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Uh, Sherlock, I believe. It's his first year here. He's your age." Michael paused. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason. Can I get my activities folder?" John asked, remembering why he had been looking for Michael in the first place.

John was flipping through his folder when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up to see no other than Sherlock staring straight at him. John glanced down, suddenly embarrassed, though he wasn't quite sure why.

)

Sherlock was sitting on the steps outside his cabin trying to make a phone call when the boy he had bumped into earlier came and sat beside him.

"You aren't supposed to have those, you know." John teased.

"What they don't know won't hurt them." Sherlock replied, wondering why the boy was even bothering him.

"I suppose not." John paused. "My name is John, by the way."

"Hello John." Sherlock said, not offering up his own name. Maybe if he was rude to him, John would leave him alone. He really was not in the mood to make friends at the moment. He was currently trying to get a good enough signal to call his parents and complain, and see if they would pick him up.

"Well, it was nice talking, I suppose." John smirked. It had been a fairly one-sided conversation. "Good night Sherlock." Sherlock blinked. He hadn't told John his name, but yet, he had known it, making it obvious that the other man had asked about him.

Sherlock couldn't imagine why someone like John was even trying to be nice to him.

Sherlock sighed, his phone call still not going through. He decided to try again in the morning. He could get through one night in this hellhole, right?

A/N: Wooooo, one chapter down. I hope you like the story so far, and ofc go check out my beta Gracie_x


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I really should be doing homework but who cares. I hope you like this newest chapter and go check out my beta **Gracie_x**

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or the characters

"Who do you keep trying to call?" John asked, sliding up next to Sherlock.

"My parents. Why do you care? Why are you even talking to me?" Sherlock knew he was being rude but he hadn't gotten much sleep, and everyone here woke up at 7 am. It was honestly inhumane, so he had a right to be snippy.

"It's technically my job." John said with a laugh. Sherlock looked at him blankly. _No humor then_ John thought to himself. "You just don't seem like camp type. I was wondering why you are here."

"My brother is forcing me. I know that must seem very odd to you. Judging by your familiarity with some of the people here and the area, you've been going here six or seven years. I'm guessing the camp helped you through some family tragedy, probably a divorce. You like to come here to escape your family because even though you love them, you are wary about your brother's destructive behavior. Though it is somewhat strange for you to still be living with your family considering you must be 18 to work here." Sherlock mused.

John stared at Sherlock, shocked. Sherlock automatically regretted saying anything. John was a large guy after all, and the only thing Sherlock had over him was height, which wouldn't do him much good.

"That was…" Sherlock cringed. Here came the insults.

"Amazing." John finished. Sherlock blinked.

"Well, that's a first." Sherlock muttered, still bracing himself to be punched or slapped.

"How did you know all that?" John asked, suddenly excited.

"I pay attention, John." Sherlock said dryly.

"That's bloody amazing. I mean, some of it was wrong, but still. You knew all that after one day." John shook his head.

Sherlock froze. "What was wrong?" He asked.

"You were right about the divorce, but it's not my brother who is destructive. It's my sister Harry. And I'm the same age as you, 16. They bent the rules and let me be a counselor because my mum couldn't afford the camp fee without my dad's income."

Sherlock wondered how John knew his age, but didn't ask.

Both men stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, the bell for lunch rang, saving them further embarrassment. "Well, I have to go get my campers together. I'll see you later, Sherlock." John gave him a disarming smile before running off in the direction of the mess hall.

Sherlock was starting to wonder if camp was really going to be that bad after all.

)

"Hey John, can I ask you a huge favor?" Michael said, coming up behind him during dinner.

"Sure, what do you need?" John was always happy to help, especially after Michael had been nice enough to let him be a counselor.

"Andrew is sick and he can't do any activities for the next few days. Would you mind combining your kids with his kids?"

"Yeah, no problem. Which cabin is he?" John asked.

"He is 4."

"Alright, I have swimming tomorrow, so I'll take them all down to the pool." John smiled. Swimming was always his favorite part of the whole camp experience.

"Thank you so much, John! I owe you."

)

Once everyone had finished breakfast, they went off to go to their separate activities. John was slightly nervous. This was his first year as a counselor, and now he had double the kids to watch. He just hoped that the kids from 4 were well-behaved.

Michael had already escorted the kids to the pool for him, because he had forgotten his whistle and sunscreen in his cabin. When he got there, he quickly looked over the new kids. He paused when he got to a familiar dark haired boy. John grinned at Sherlock, fighting the urge to wave at him.

Sherlock sighed. Of course their stand in counselor was John. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the overly happy man.

"Alright, first things first. How many of you don't know how to swim?" John asked, scanning the group. A couple of boys timidly raised their hands.

"Okay, I will be teaching you some basics today, and by the end of the week, you will be able to swim." John grinned. "Everyone else can go ahead and jump in, but stay close so that I can watch you." And with that, the rest of the boys ran towards the water, laughing and pushing each other. John laughed.

He noticed Sherlock still standing with the group of boys who didn't know how to swim. "Can you swim, Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock blinked. "Yes, I can."

John waited. Sherlock didn't move.

"Why aren't you swimming?" John asked, feeling kind of like he was talking to a child.

"I don't want to." Sherlock deadpanned.

John sighed. "You have to."

"Why?"

"Because that's what the activity for today is." John fought his instinct to add _and because I said so._ He somehow thought that wouldn't go over well with the other man.

"Fine." Sherlock walked to the water at a leisurely pace, obviously not in any hurry. John silently vowed to get him out of his perpetual bad mood and to get him to have some damn fun.

"Okay, let's learn how to swim." John said, smiling down at the expectant boys.

)

"JOHN." One of the kids yelled.

John snapped to attention, motioning for the boys he was teaching to swim to hold onto the wall before swimming over the other end of the pool.

He immediately saw the problem. Sherlock was submerged and not coming up.

He quickly relayed all of the saving techniques and put them in motion. He dragged Sherlock to the edge of the pool, pushing him onto the tile before pulling himself out. John put his ear to Sherlock's mouth. _He's not breathing._ John tried to stay calm, knowing that panicking would not save Sherlock. He went through the steps up of CPR, starting to lose hope after the third attempt when Sherlock finally began breathing. He began violently coughing up water.

John helped the other man until he was done. "I thought you could swim." John said, glad that Sherlock was okay, but angry that he had lied.

"I thought it looked easy enough." Sherlock sputtered. John couldn't help but smile.

"You can sit out today, but tomorrow, I'm going to teach you how to swim." John grinned.

Sherlock sighed. He dried off with a towel.

"You can change out of your swim trunks if you want, since you won't have to swim today." John suddenly laughed. "At least now I know I can actually do CPR."

Sherlock blinked. John had given him CPR? He flushed at the thought, though he didn't know why.

A/N: Oh silly Sherlock c: Hope you guys like the newest chapter of my newest fic and review and stuff c:


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello guys c: Here's the newest update, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any of its characters

Sherlock had been in the infirmary for nearly three hours and his patience was wearing thin. However, no matter how many times he told the nurse he was fine, she continued to ignore him and just tapped away at her computer. He was about to settle in for a nap when the door swung open and John strode in.

Sherlock sat up immediately, and tried desperately to tame his hair. It hadn't dried well after his incident in the pool.

John pulled a chair up to sit beside Sherlock's cot. "How are you doing?" John asked, his eyes full of worry.

"I'm fine," Sherlock assured him. "Between you and me, I'm not sure why she has been keeping me here so long. I'm starting to think she's not even a real nurse." He said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

John laughed. "Maybe she just enjoys your bubbly presence." He joked.

Sherlock glared at him.

"Well, I'm glad she's keeping you here. That means she's being thorough, and that's good because I'd be upset if anything happened to you."

That comment hung in the air as Sherlock tried to figure out why John cared so much about him, practically a complete stranger.

There was a prolonged awkward pause as Sherlock studied John and John fidgeted under his gaze. John coughed. "Well, um, I guess I better get back to my campers." He said, standing up.

"Wait." Sherlock called. John stopped, and turned back to him. "What am I supposed to doing during swimming time tomorrow?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" John's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't swim, so what do I do during the time?" Sherlock hoped he wasn't placed in some lame activity, like arts and crafts. He hated glue and glitter. It was much too messy. He wondered if there was possibly a silent reading time. Now, _that_, he could do.

"Oh, I'm going to be teaching you how to swim." John said.

"Wh-what?"

"You'll be able to swim by the end of the week, and that's a promise." John winked at Sherlock and left, leaving the conversation closed to any argument.

Sherlock frowned, his stomach doing flips, though he wasn't sure if it was from the idea of swimming after nearly drowning today or from the fact that John had winked at him.

)

"This is bloody stupid. Why do I need to know how to swim?" Sherlock asked, shivering in the cold water.

"Because what if someday, you fall off a boat and you need to save yourself. Being able to swim is an important survival skill."John grinned.

"I hate boats. They make me sea sick."

"You still have to learn how to swim."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine."

"First, you need to put these on your arms." John held up a pair arm floaties. Sherlock eyed them with disbelief.

"I'll look like an idiot." He said.

"You'll look like an idiot when you tell people that you never learned how to swim." John pointed out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but obeyed and slipped the floaties onto his arms. "Now what?"

"Now, position yourself so that you are lying on your belly in the water, like this." John demonstrated. Sherlock did as John said. John placed one hand on the middle of Sherlock's back, and the other on his belly. Sherlock's stomach muscles clenched in response, and Sherlock fought the urge to slap John's hands away. "Now, you need to work on kick your feet. Kick your feet so they are just above the water and then lower them again."

"Okay, good, now we are going to work on the different strokes."

They worked on swimming for the next hour and Sherlock could almost swim across the width of the pool without stopping for breath.

"You are a natural." John said while they were drying off. "After a little bit of teaching, you got it really quick." John grinned, proud of the impressive progress they had made in just one day.

"I'm sure I'll never use it though." Sherlock said, though he had actually enjoyed swimming. He enjoyed the feeling of being weightless underwater and feeling as if you could do anything. He wondered if his parents would consider putting in a pool. They would probably like the idea, as it would get him outside and away from his experiments. They were always afraid he was going to blow something up.

"How come you never learned to swim?" John asked suddenly, interrupting Sherlock's thoughts.

Sherlock considered the question for a moment before answering. "I don't really know. I never showed much interest in sports or anything to do with the outdoors when I was a child, so my parents probably figured it was a lost cause. My brother probably never learned either. Mycroft is much too fat to swim." Sherlock laughed at the thought of his overweight brother trying to do a lap in the pool.

"You have a brother?" John asked. John had just assumed Sherlock was an only child. He had the attitude of one. Plus, how would someone like Sherlock be like around family? Somehow, John thought that they weren't close like most siblings.

"Yes, and he is incredibly pretentious and irritating. He thinks that being the older brother gives him power that isn't truly his and he never stops bossing me around." Sherlock paused. Why was he telling John all this?

"Plus his name is Mycroft." John said.

Sherlock snorted. "My parents like odd names."

John nodded.

Sherlock's stomach growled. "Man, I'm bloody hungry." Sherlock usually didn't have much of an appetite, especially for camp food, but today he was famished.

"Well, swimming does that to you." John grinned.

"Maybe Mycroft does swim then." Sherlock laughed, causing John to grin even wider.

A/N: I hope you liked it! Review and all that stuff. Until next time c:


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I've dedicated my life to writing about teenage boys falling in love and people still think I'm normal. Sorry this is shorter than usual, half of this chapter disappeared into computer land and I have no idea what I wrote.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or the characters

John literally could not stop grinning. He felt like an idiot but he just could not stop smiling. He had actually succeeded in making Sherlock laugh today, and he felt incredible. He felt as if he was really making this whole experience better for the other man, and a glance across the mess hall revealed that Sherlock still had the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Even having to clean up the mess hall couldn't ruin his mood.

Halfway through washing the dishes, Megan, another counselor, came up beside him and started to take over the drying part of the job. He thanked her and started to ask her about how her year had been since they had last seen each other.

Megan gave quick answers, and steered the subject away from herself. "So that Sherlock kid... That one you saved from drowning. How old is he?"

"He's 16." John thought it was a weird thing for her to bring up, but brushed it off as sheer curiosity.

"And he's one of your campers, right?"

"No, he's actually Sean's but I was covering for him." John smiled, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.

"Do you think he'd like to come to a party tomorrow night? With me?" Megan looked up hopefully.

"W-wh-what?" John asked, stunned that anybody would want to take Sherlock out. Especially to a party of all places. It was obvious that Megan had never talked to Sherlock.

"Oh, you can come too if you'd like!" Megan smiled. "So can you ask him if he'll go?"

"Uh, sure, I guess." John said, his head still spinning.

"Thanks, John! You are the best!" Megan gave John a small hug before running off, leaving John with the rest of the dishes and some odd thoughts.

)

John had been teaching Sherlock how to swim for about an hour before he finally brought up the subject of the party.

"Hey would you like to go a party tonight with me and some of the other counselors?" John asked, leaving out the part about Megan. He thought that Sherlock would probably say no if he knew it was a setup. At least this way, Megan could experience Sherlock's rude behavior for herself and walk away from the situation far less hurt.

"You want me to go to a party?" Sherlock wondered if John had actually lost his mind.

"Yeah, it could be fun." John shrugged. "Plus it could get you away from the camp for a while and into the real world."

Sherlock considered it for a moment. "Okay, I'll go."

John blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, John, do I need to repeat myself?"

"Well, I guess I'll come get you at 8." John said.

Sherlock nodded, though the sentence sounded a lot like the things he had heard in movies and books when people took other people out on dates. Was this a date?

Sherlock frowned, not sure what to think.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: hey guys c: I hope you like the story so far! Here's the latest chapter so enjoy c:

Sherlock couldn't decide what to wear. He had never been to a party before, save the ones his parents hosted. He was pretty positive that the formal attire he was required to wear at those was the norm at the type of party he was going to.

He finally decided on a nice blue button down and slacks. He decided it was dressy enough but not enough so that he would stand out. He tried to tame his curls, but gave up after a while.

While he was waiting for John to come retrieve him, the other campers in his cabin pestered him with questions.

"Where are you going?" Asked one.

"Why are you all dressed up?" Another one questioned.

"Why do you look so silly?" Demanded a particularly obnoxious child.

Sherlock ignored them, deciding that they would eventually tire of trying to get him to talk to them and go do something else to entertain their ridiculously short attention spans.

Eventually, they did go. Sherlock sighed with relief. He still didn't know why Mycroft had decided that _this _was a good place for him. He probably did it just to amuse himself. He probably knew Sherlock would be miserable at such a place.

Sherlock was jolted out of musings when he heard a loud knock at the door. He stood up quickly, hitting his head on the top bunk of the bunk bed he shared. He went to open the door, rubbing the injury.

"What's wrong with your head?" John asked in way of greeting.

"Bunk beds are dumb." Sherlock replied.

John chuckled. "Well, my mum always said that kisses make any bruise or cut better."

Sherlock paused. Was that the type of thing you would say to a friend? He wasn't sure. He decided to let it slide like he hadn't thought anything of it.

"Shall we go?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh yeah, Megan said she meet us by the mess hall."

"Who's Megan?"

John nearly tripped. He had never told Sherlock about Megan. Which meant Sherlock didn't know that he was being set-up with Megan. He silently cursed himself.

"Megan, uh, she's another counselor; she's the one who invited me to the party." Technically, John wasn't lying. It was halfway true. "I think you'll like her."

Sherlock nodded.

John bit his lip. Should he tell Sherlock about Megan asking him to invite him? Before he could decide what to do, Megan ran up to them.

"Hey guys!" She paused to look them both over. "You two look very nice, Sherlock, you clean up well." She winked at him with an overly made up eye.

They exchanged pleasantries and once they ran out of small talk, they piled into Megan's car. John opted to sit in the back with Sherlock so that he felt more comfortable. Megan asked Sherlock questions about his school and family to which he provided short, clipped answers. But that didn't discourage her in the least.

Once they got to the party, it was in full swing. There were cars all down the street and music blaring from an open window. He wondered how long it would be until someone called the police.

Megan weaved her way through the crowd of people, stopping to briefly greet people. Her destination was a small den like area. She obviously knew everybody there, greeting them all and even stopping to hug a few. Sherlock and John immediately felt uncomfortable. This was a highly intimate area. At least out there, there were a lot of people, and you didn't feel as pressured.

If Megan noticed their unease, she didn't let on. Instead she requested that John go get drinks for them.

John happily obliged, wanting to get out of the area. He found the makeshift bar quickly, but the line was huge. He sighed, and settled in for a long wait.

)

Sherlock was in between yelling at John when he got back, or going to search him out and dragging him back. He couldn't believe the other man had just left him like that! He glanced at his watch. John had been gone nearly fifteen minutes.

Meanwhile, Megan had been left in his company. Not that she wasn't being polite and incredibly welcome (actually bordering on being too friendly) he just wasn't that interested in anything she had said so far. Quite frankly, Sherlock found her to be mind-numbingly boring. She was discussing her college experiences thus far when suddenly she squealed. Sherlock startled at the high-pitched sound.

"I love this song! Let's dance!" Megan gave Sherlock no time to object, and pulled him out onto the makeshift dance floor. In what was formerly a living room, all of the furniture had been pushed against the wall to make room for the hundreds of dancing teenagers. Sherlock frowned. He really didn't get the point of dancing like this. First of all, there was hardly any room, so everybody was packed in like sardines. Secondly, it was much too hot, and Sherlock was already starting to sweat and he hadn't even begun dancing.

Megan found a small opening among the throng of people, and started moving her hips to the beat of the music. Sherlock stood there, unsure what to do. Thankfully, Megan saved him from complete embarrassment and guided him, showing him how to move to the music. Sherlock smiled. This wasn't _that_ bad. He preferred more traditional dancing, but he definitely saw the appeal.

)

John had finally made his way back with the drink when he spotted Megan and Sherlock on the dance floor. Megan's hands were on Sherlock's hips and he looked overjoyed by the whole experience. John knew he should be happy for the two, but he wasn't.

He was jealous.

John frowned. That didn't make sense. Why should he be jealous?

But John couldn't deny it. He could feel it burning in his belly, clouding his mind.

He was completely and utterly jealous of Megan.

A/N: This chapter was really hard to write (ha I've been to like one party so that's probably why) Anyways, hope you enjoyed it and review and stuff c:


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: What am I doing with my life

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters.

John turned away, setting the drinks down on a nearby coffee table. Megan could get her own damn drinks if she wanted to. At the moment, John was in serious need of some air to clear his mind.

Finally, after a few wrong turns, John found his way back to the front of the house. He pushed his way through the door, relieved by the feeling of fresh air in his lungs. John usually found the outside to be comforting, and it was where he dealt with most of his issues.

After calming down, he sat down. He didn't know why he had been so mad. It was like Sherlock belonged to him or anything. And he knew that Megan had been interested in the other man when John had asked him to go. He had no reason to be upset.

But he still was.

His thought from early kept creeping up. Why would he be jealous? Of all things. Maybe he didn't like that they went and had fun while he was sent to get drinks.

He shook his head. No, he would understand that. He had done that a few times to his friends.

It was something about the thought of Sherlock with Megan that made his anger flare up. Megan wasn't right for him at all. Sherlock deserved someone who was more attentive. Megan was much too self-centered for him. He shook his head. He shouldn't have ever agreed to invite Sherlock in the first place.

John didn't know how long he had been outside, but suddenly Sherlock and Megan were in front of him. Megan was pouting.

"You missed the entire party." Megan whined. It roughly translated into "You never brought us our drinks."

Sherlock stayed silent, studying John.

"I just, uh, needed some fresh air. I guess I lost track of time." John clenched his teeth, as Megan wove her arm through Sherlock's. "Are we leaving now?"

Megan nodded, and they went in search of her car. The car ride back was mostly silent, which John appreciated. He really didn't want any more questions about his early disappearance. He didn't have much of an explanation for his odd behavior, or at least not one he could share.

They snuck back on to campgrounds because while John and Megan were allowed to leave after bedtime, Sherlock definitely wasn't. They dropped Megan off at her cabin first, and John and Sherlock made the uncomfortable trek back to Sherlock's cabin. Sherlock stayed quiet, which was welcome to John. He wasn't sure what he would blurt out to the other man. The last thing he needed was to make the other man uncomfortable because he had revealed that he was jealous of Megan and Sherlock together.

They said their goodnights and John found himself lying in bed an hour later unable to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. At first, John had started a conversation with him because he was trying to fulfill his job as a camp counselor by making all campers feel comfortable. Then it had become somewhat of a personal challenge to make Sherlock enjoy himself. But now he truly enjoyed the other man's presence, and even considered himself a friend to some degree.

He was usually happy when his mates got girlfriends. But with Sherlock, it was different.

Did he think of Sherlock as more than a friend?

John shook the thought away. No, he was straight. He didn't like blokes.

Right?

)

"Five more minutes." John groaned. He rolled over, covering his head with a pillow to drown out the loud noises.

Suddenly, he felt a rush of cold as a huge bucket of water was spilled on him. He jumped up, swearing silently. Ten little faces grinned up at him. It took him a second to realize where he was. He was still at camp and it was breakfast.

"I guess I deserved that." John said, shivering. "Give me a couple minutes to change." John rubbed his eyes. He didn't know when he had actually gotten to sleep but it definitely had not been soon enough. At least it was arts and crafts day. Those were usually pretty low stress.

Breakfast went by quickly, and John tried to avoid eye contact with Sherlock. He wasn't quite ready to face the other man just yet, especially not after last night.

John was grateful for a day of arts and crafts. All he had to do was sit in the corner and make sure no one cut someone else's hair off. He yawned.

_This chair is really comfy_ John thought with a sleepy smile. His eyelids grew heavy.

_I have good kids. I can take a short nap. They won't get into any trouble _John reasoned as he settled in for a short nap.

)

John woke up to a clump of giggling kids surrounding him. He blinked. "Sorry guys, I can't keep my eyes open. Did you guys need something?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

One kid raised his hand. "I need help spelling something."

John nodded, getting up to help the kid, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was up. All the kids were staring at him and laughing. Was his hair messed up? Was his shirt on backwards or something?

He tried to amount it to children being children, but it hung in the back of his mind.

It wasn't until lunch that he found out why they couldn't stop laughing.

)

John was seriously starting to feel self-conscious now. It had been a little strange when his campers had been laughing at him, but now it was starting to get to him. It seemed like everyone was staring at him.

Another counselor took one look at him and laughed so hard that he started crying. When John asked him what he was laughing at, he just said that he had suddenly remembered a very funny joke. Later, he had caught him high-fiving all his campers. What was going on?

When lunch finally came around, John was tired of all the laughing. He just wanted someone to tell him what was so damn funny. He scanned the mess hall until he found the curly haired boy he was looking for.

"Okay, what is so funny about me today?" John asked, coming up behind the other man.

Sherlock turned, and a small laugh escaped his mouth before he took on a very serious face. "Have you looked in a mirror?" Sherlock asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

John shook his head. Sherlock handed him the napkin dispenser.

John turned red as he stared at his reflection. Apparently, while he had been asleep, the kids had decided to glue have the craft materials to his face. How had he not felt that?

"How am I supposed to get all this shit off?" John groaned.

"Sit down. I'll help you."

John hesitated, but figured that Sherlock was the only person nice enough to help him. Which was kind of odd, considering Sherlock was probably the rudest person at the camp. Sherlock began to gingerly remove the feathers and gems from John's face. John blushed at the intimate distance between them, and at how gentle Sherlock was being.

"You are lucky they didn't use super glue." Sherlock pointed out. "Okay, that's all of it."

John thanked the other man. "I'll have to punish them later." He said. "But for now, I better get back to them before they start throwing food at each other."

John walked away with butterflies in his stomach and no intention of acknowledging who had caused them.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm writing like three fics at the same time right now and I keep thinking up new fic ideas someone help

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters

The next week and a half went by quickly, and on the last day of camp, when his brother was supposed to come and pick him up, he found himself sad to leave. He had actually grown to like some of the people at camp, though John was the biggest reason he would miss it. He glanced over at his table, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever see the other man.

After breakfast, they all went to pack their clothes and say their goodbyes. Sherlock finished packing quickly and went off in search of John.

After a few minutes of searching, he managed to find him by the lake.

"Hey." Sherlock said, coming to a stop beside him.

"I can't believe it's the last day already." John sighed. "Are you coming back next year?" Sherlock thought he sounded almost hopeful, but he shook that thought out of his head.

"Probably not. My brother only dropped me off here because it was more convenient."

John nodded. "Give me your phone."

Sherlock looked at him oddly, but obliged. He looked over John's shoulder as John programmed his phone number into Sherlock's phone.

"There. We can stay in touch now." John smiled, though the smile had a hint of sadness to it.

Sherlock grinned. "Alright."

John opened his mouth to say something else when one of the campers came running up. "Sherlock, your car is here."

Sherlock sighed. The one time his family was actually on time.

"Well, I have to go." Sherlock said.

John nodded. "Till we meet again."

Sherlock surprised both of them by suddenly hugging John. John hugged back after a minute. Sherlock reluctantly let go after a few moments. "Thank you." He said quietly.

John smiled. "Anytime."

Sherlock walked off, turning around once to wave at the other man. He saw Mycroft leaning against his car, waiting for him.

"How was it?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock walked past him, and slid into the car, slamming the door shut.

"That bad?" Mycroft muttered to himself. He shrugged, figuring he could asked his brother later for more details.

Sherlock mumbled something about taking a nap, and promptly shut his eyes, and effectively closing off all communication between them.

Mycroft sighed. He hadn't really expected camp to change his brother, but hey, a person could hope.

A/N: sorry, this is a really short chapter, but I just felt that adding anything after this point would be awkward to read, if that makes sense.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I should be doing my homework but this seemed more appealing

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters

John looked around, breathing in the familiar smell of cleaning products and potpourri. He was finally home. Coming home after a long time away always made you appreciate what you had more. And right now, he really appreciated his bed. He was in serious need of a nap.

But first, he needed to plug in his phone. It had died on the way back, and he had spent the rest of the ride back worrying that Sherlock had texted him. If he didn't text back quickly, Sherlock would probably give up on him. Sherlock was the type of person who needed constant attention, or he would get bored. Sort of like a pet, but more independent.

_No new messages_ the screen read. Oh well. "We just saw each other. It would be weird for him to text so quickly." John rationalized.

He collapsed onto his bed, sighing. He fell asleep quickly.

)

John woke up to his sister screaming at him. "I'm awake!" He shouted.

"Dinner is ready!"

John sighed, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed his phone, checking it briefly to see if he had any new messages, and shoved it into his pocket.

"What's for dinner?" He asked as he made his way down the stairs.

"Quesadillas!" His mother replied.

John smiled. He had really missed his mother's cooking.

Harry shoved him out of the way. "Stop standing there like an idiot. You are holding up the line."

They all served themselves and sat around the table. They ate while John shared stories about his time at camp.

"-and then I fell asleep in arts and crafts, which is a bad idea-" John's phone rang, cutting him off. He checked it,disappointed to see it wasn't Sherlock. He ignored it.

"Who are you waiting to text you?" Harry teased.

"What?" John asked.

"C'mon John, it's obvious you met someone at camp. Who is she? How old is she?"

Heat rushed to John's cheeks. "It's nothing like that." He stammered. "I'm done." He said, and got up from the table.

Harry shook her head. Her brother is an awful liar.

)

John was about to go to sleep when his phone vibrated. He sighed, wondering if he should ignore and go to sleep or check and see if it was Sherlock. He had so many false alarms already that day that he was kind of pessimistic towards the idea that Sherlock would actually text him.

He sighed again, rolling over to grab his phone off his nightstand.

John yelped. The text was actually from Sherlock!

He blushed suddenly, embarrassed by his over eager reaction. He quickly typed back hello.

His phone vibrated again. _Did you get safely home?_

John smiled. It was nice that Sherlock cared. **No, I am currently being held hostage by a gang of thugs, but otherwise, I'm fantastic. **

_I'm going to assume that was a joke._

**Yes, it was. How are you?**

_I'm fine. You?_

**I'm wonderful.**

They texted back and forth for a while more until John finally fell asleep, his phone clutched in his hand.

)

John woke up the next morning, confused. He grabbed for his phone, but found it wasn't on the nightstand. A little bit of searching revealed that it had fallen into the space between his bed and his headboard. He retrieved it, and saw that he had one missed message.

Suddenly, he remembered staying up to text Sherlock, and falling asleep on him in the middle of a text message. He read the new message.

_I can safely deduce that you have fallen asleep. Good night, John. Sleep well. _

John grinned, the expression taking up his whole face. It was a wonderful feeling when you could do the impossible, which he felt like he had done with Sherlock, and making him friendly.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I have so much to do, so I decided my time would be best spent writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters

"This is a very nice school, so please, please don't get kicked out of it." Mycroft said. They were waiting to meet the principal of the new school Sherlock would be attending.

"I'll try my best." Sherlock replied unsincerely.

Sherlock sighed. School started tomorrow, and he was already counting down the days until it ended. He pulled out his phone ready to text John but Mycroft snatched it away from him.

Sherlock started to protest but Mycroft cut him off. "You are constantly glued to your phone these days." He said, pocketing the device. "Who are you texting 24/7?"

"I don't believe that is any of your business." Sherlock replied.

Mycroft looked like he was about to say something else, but dropped the subject.

A few minutes later, a woman popped her head around the door. "The headteacher's ready to see you now." She smiled politely, opening the door wider to let them in. Mycroft thanked her, and gave Sherlock a brief look that warned him to behave. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Hello sir. Thank you so much for making time in your busy schedule to see us. My name is Mycroft Holmes, and this is my younger brother, Sherlock. My parents make their dearest apologies for not being able to make this meeting." Sherlock suppressed a snort.

The principal smiled. "Oh, it's no trouble. Hello, Sherlock." Sherlock nodded in greeting. "Please sit."

They both obliged.

"Now, I've been looking over your school records, and I see that you have many behavioral problems. I would like you to know that we do not tolerate that here."

"Oh, I assure you that that will not be a problem. I've already talked with him about it, and we have reached an agreement." Mycroft smiled. "He was going through a difficult time, but he is doing much better now."

Sherlock couldn't remember how many times he had heard that. Mycroft said that every time Sherlock went to a new school. It wasn't true, but it always seemed to work.

"Yes, I understand. I also saw your test scores, and I must say, I am quite impressed. I think you will fit in well in our math and science program."

They talked for a little while longer, and Sherlock said as little as he could manage. That's usually how these meetings went. Mycroft used his charm to trick these schools into letting him in and Sherlock kept his mouth shut so he wouldn't ruin it. Then the cycle started over again when Sherlock managed to get himself kicked out of school.

"We would love to have Sherlock attend our school." They shook hands. "I will see you tomorrow." He said.

Sherlock waved goodbye, and let out a sigh of relief when he finally got out of there. He could finally speak.

"I give him two weeks before he kicks me out, maybe three." Sherlock said.

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, I really need you to stay here. I'm about to start a new project at work and I can't be distracted by worrying about you constantly. So please, promise me that you will behave."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but agreed nonetheless. He knew how important it was for Mycroft to make a good impression at work. He could behave for a few weeks, at least until Mycroft was done with this project.

)

_Happy first day of school. _

**I'm going to assume that that was sarcastic.**

_It was. I detest organized education._

**Well, I hope you have a nice day anyway. I've gotta go. My teacher is staring at me and she looks like she'll tear my head off if she realises I'm texting. **

Sherlock sighed. He could only go for so long living off the comfort that John gave him. Now he had to face the real world. He glanced around at the students in nearly identical uniforms to him. He suppressed the urge to loosen his tie. He needed to behave and that included keeping his uniform up to school ordinances.

So far, he hadn't had any troubles, but it was obvious he didn't fit in. All the other students had greeted each other and he was the odd one out being the new kid. Sherlock saw movement in his peripheral vision and glanced up to see a girl approaching him. She startled slightly under his gaze. Sherlock had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He couldn't be rude. That was usually what got him in trouble.

"Hullo." She said quietly.

"Hello." Sherlock answered shortly.

"Are you new?" Sherlock nodded. "My name is Grace."

"Sherlock."

It took her a second to realize that was his name. She frowned slightly. What an odd name.

"Well, I just wanted to welcome you and tell you that you are welcome to hang out with us." She blushed, and said goodbye.

Sherlock thanked her. He quickly pulled his phone out to text John.

_I made a new friend. _

John smiled.

**Good job. You work fast. **

_Well, she initiated the conversation, so I can't take credit for it._

John frowned. She? Something told him that this new 'friend' had something in mind other than friendship. He had seen it all the time. Girls always seemed to pounce on the new guy. His stomach burned with jealousy.

His frowned deepened. He already couldn't stand this girl and he had never even met her. What was wrong with him?

"John Watson, if I see your phone one more time!" His professor warned.

John apologized, and tried to focus on class, but his mind kept wandering back to Sherlock.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I just want to sleep but it's too bright outside

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters

Sherlock managed to behave during the entire first day of school, and found that it wasn't that bad. It wasn't enjoyable, but it wasn't horrible either. He decided to take a nap when he got home. School was just exhausting sometimes.

Mycroft knocked on his door later, waking him up.

"How was school?" He asked, not bothering to apologize for interrupting his brother's nap.

"It was okay." Sherlock shrugged.

Mycroft let out a sigh of relief. When it came to Sherlock, an 'okay' was definitely a victory.

"I'm glad you had a nice time." Mycroft paused. "Thank you for making an effort."

Sherlock nodded, but chose not to say anything. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Mycroft took the hint and left Sherlock's room. Sherlock rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock. It was 5. He wondered if John was busy.

He grabbed his phone.

_Hello._

**Hey! How was your first day of school?**

Sherlock wondered why everyone asked that.

_It was fine. Bearable, at least._

**That's good. **

_How about yours?_

**I had a nice time, caught up with some friends I haven't seen in a while.**

Sherlock suddenly realized that John had a life outside of him. He had other friends, a whole different group of people that he hung out with. It hit him hard, though he didn't know why. Obviously John had other friends. He was a friendly and likable guy. Sherlock shook his head. He was being so illogical.

They texted back and forth about their schedules and plans for the semester until Sherlock was called down for dinner.

Sherlock was busy texting John back when his phone was snatched out of his hand. He looked up.

"This is a family dinner, Sherlock. No texting at the table." Sherlock's mother scolded. Sherlock rolled his eyes. As if they even behaved like a family. These once every two weeks dinners didn't fool anyone.

"I have company coming over tomorrow, so I expect you both to be on your best behavior." Sherlock's dad informed them. He said 'both' but it was only for Sherlock's sake. They all knew that the dark-haired boy was the one who needed to be reminded to be good.

Sherlock nodded.

Dinner ended quickly, and Sherlock made another grab for his phone, but his mother smacked his hand away. "You are too attached to this. Go outside. Talk to friends."

Sherlock couldn't even believe the irony in that statement. She had taken his phone away so that he would talk to other people but it was actually the only way of contacting his friend. She promised to give it back to him after tomorrow's dinner.

He argued, but it was useless. Dejected, he walked back to his room, wondering what he could possibly do without a phone.

Life was tough sometimes.

A/N: this chapter is kinda short but whatever! I hoped you enjoyed it all the same c: review and all that jazz


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you to the people who informed me of the missing part of this chapter. Something must have happened at some point, because it all just disappeared.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or anything

Sherlock sulked in his room as he waited for the guests that were supposed to be arriving at any time now. He had dressed in the clothes his mother had put out for him. He had considered arguing but due to the fact that she still had his phone in her possession, he decided it was better to not challenge her. Sherlock was incredibly bored without his phone, and he missed John. It was silly, but John had become somewhat of a permanent part of Sherlock's life the past few weeks, and it was painful to have him taken away so suddenly. He hoped the other man didn't think he was purposefully ignoring him.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. "What?" Sherlock called.

"Our guests are here." Mycroft announced through the door. Sherlock made his way into the hallway. "Please behave yourself." Mycroft said in a tone that made it clear that he didn't think that was possible for Sherlock. The curly haired boy rolled his eyes, trudging after Mycroft down the stairs and into their living room.

Sherlock could hear his mother in the foyer greeting their guests. "Oh and aren't you a handsome young boy?" He heard her say. He groaned. Whoever they were, they brought their no doubt bratty little kid over. That was just fantastic.

Sherlock's mother rounded the corner leading their guests into the living room. Sherlock could tell this dinner was a very big deal to the mother, because she was wearing quite a bit of makeup and he could tell her shoes were brand new. She was trying to make a good impression. Her daughter, however, looked like she wanted to be anywhere else rather than there. He could relate to that.

His father was still in the foyer with the boy, who he was talking sports with. Sherlock rolled his eyes. His father was laughing at he made his way into the living with the kid and as Sherlock got a good look at the boy, his eyes went wide.

John blinked, wondering if he was seeing correctly. "Sherlock?" He asked.

"What the fuck?" Sherlock blurted.

Sherlock's mother gasped, but he ignored her, staring at John.

"Sherlock, do you know John?" Sherlock's father asked.

Before Sherlock could answer, John spoke up. "Yeah, we met at camp. I was a counselor." John grinned. "Maybe if you had texted me back, we wouldn't be so shocked right now." John sat next to Sherlock on the couch. Sherlock stared at him in shock.

"I wondered who was texting you so much." Sherlock's mother shook her head, handing her son back his phone.

Sherlock scrolled through the 4 new messages from John.

**I hope you aren't busy tonight because I have to go to a boring dinner and I'll need you to entertain me.**

**Blue or red tie? What would bring out my eyes more?**

**I decided on blue.**

**I hope they have nice food. I'm starving. **

Sherlock looked back up at John. "The blue does look nice." He admitted, and John laughed. Mycroft nearly choked on his drink at the friendly nature between the two.

"So is this the person you are always rushing to text?" Harry asked, putting the pieces together.

John turned bright red and decided that he was going to kill Harry when he got home.

"Him too?" Mycroft laughed. "We could barely get Sherlock off his phone."

Sherlock blushed, and both boys looked anywhere but each other. Everyone made small talk for a while until it was announced that dinner was ready. They migrated to the dining room where they were served. The Holmes' family had gone all out for the dinner, preparing huge steaks and homemade mashed potatoes. They dug in, and everyone asked the obligatory questions about school and work.

Dinner was soon over, and the Watson's had to leave. As they said their goodbyes, Sherlock wondered how he should send John off. A handshake seemed too formal. John answered that question by pulling Sherlock into a short hug. "It was nice meeting you all, and it was great seeing you again Sherlock." He said as he left.

Sherlock couldn't help but feel a little empty as John left. It was crazy how much the other man changed his mood, and it didn't go unnoticed by the rest of his family. Mycroft suddenly wondered just what John was to Sherlock.

)

"Sherlock is pretty cute." Harry said once they got back to their own home.

"Aren't you one hundred percent homosexual?" John asked, laughing.

_And I thought you were one hundred percent heterosexual _Harry thought to herself, but held her tongue. She knew that if she mentioned anything to John that he would get instantly defensive about it and deny everything.

Boys were so stupid.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I got an A in chemistry! I'm so happy. You can tell I was thinking a lot about it when you read this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters

"Morning, Sherlock." Grace said, sliding into the seat next to the curly haired boy. "How was your weekend?"

"It was fine. How about yours?" Sherlock asked, trying to be polite.

"It was alright." She paused. "Did you finish the chemistry homework?"

"That? Yeah, it took me like 10 minutes." Sherlock shrugged.

"Really? I spent nearly an hour on it, and I barely finished 2." She laughed. "You must be really good."

"I've been doing chemistry since I was 5." Mycroft had gotten a chemistry set for one of his birthdays and Sherlock had stolen it.

"Could you help me?" Grace asked, her smile hopeful.

Sherlock paused, debating whether or not he should make up an excuse as to why he couldn't. He sighed. "I guess, but I'm not the best teacher."

Grace smiled. "I need all the help I can get."

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of class, and they were forced to quieten down.

After class, Grace gave Sherlock a piece of paper with her phone number scrawled on it. "Text me and we can plan a study session." Sherlock nodded and said his goodbye's.

)

After a couple minutes of comparing timetables, Grace and Sherlock decided that this day would be the best for both of them. They met at the school entrance, and made their way to the car waiting for Sherlock.

The car ride to Sherlock's house was mostly silent, and Sherlock found that he didn't know how to behave when inviting a friend over for the first time. He had never had to.

Sherlock opened the door, letting Grace in first. He led her into the living room where he motioned for her to put her stuff down.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Sherlock asked, tapping into all of his memories of when guests came over.

"Water please." Grace answered politely.

Sherlock grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and turned, nearly running into Mycroft.

"You must be really thirsty." Mycroft mused.

"I have company." Sherlock answered.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Is it John?"

"No, it's a friend from school. I should get back to her."

Mycroft gaped. Two different friends in one week?

)

Grace and Sherlock studied for a while until she had to leave. She thanked Sherlock, telling him that he had helped a lot, and they made plans to study again next week.

Sherlock pulled out his phone. He had felt it vibrate a couple times but it had seemed rude to look to see who it was while Grace was around.

It ended up being John.

He quickly answered him.

_Sorry I didn't answer before. I was studying with a friend._

**That's fine! How did studying go?**

_It went well. Grace believes I'm some sort of chemistry god._

John frowned. Her again? He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

**I'm terrible at chemistry.**

Sherlock wondered if Grace would mind if John came over during their study sessions as well. He texted her and asked if it would be a problem.

No of course not. The more, the merrier! She replied. Sherlock smiled.

_You can come over as well if you'd like. We are studying again next Tuesday. _

John replied quickly, saying that he would love to. Sherlock smiled. He couldn't wait for John to meet Grace. He had a feeling they would really hit it off.

A/N: hahahahahaha silly sherlock.


End file.
